Find Herself Faded
by Rebecca Parker
Summary: Post "Gift" Willow POV. Willow makes a bad decision.


TITLE

TITLE: Find Herself Faded (1/1)   
AUTHOR: Rebecca Parker   
EMAIL: NumfarGal@aol.com   
SUMMARY: Post "Gift" Willow POV. Willow makes a bad decision.   
SPOILERS: Up to "The Gift".   
FEEDBACK: I do the dance of joy upon receipt of feedback.   
DISTRIBUTION: At FINNatics and Our Own Destiny   
(http://www.ourowndestiny.com). All others, please ask first.   
DISCLAIMER: Joss and Mutant Enemy own all.   
DEDICATION: To Jodi and Moe. Thanks for the support!   
NOTE: The title is part of a line from "Mary" by Sarah McLachlan.   
  
  
  
She hated me.   
  
She hated me for what I did, and I can't say I blame her.   
  
Looking back, I see what I did was wrong. Tara knew; she had told me months   
before when Dawn suggested the same thing to us regarding Joyce.   
  
But I brought Buffy back anyway. I went back upstairs in the Magic Box, and   
took the books which Giles had just replaced after Dawn returned them.   
  
I went to her grave, collected the dirt, returned back to my dorm, and did   
the spell. And she came to me an hour later.   
  
Tara was at the Magic Shop helping Giles out with the busy Christmas sales. I   
lied and said I found the whole thing crass on account of me being Jewish.   
They were used to me pulling my political correct card every so often, so   
they really didn't think much of it.   
  
They just told me they understood, and that it was OK with them.   
  
I hated lying to them. Since her death, we've been closer than ever before,   
and lies were not something I ever wanted to introduce into the bond we had   
developed.   
  
But I thought- if I could bring her back, they'd be happy. They'd forget that   
it was a stupid thing I did. To see her again, to feel her again, to touch   
her again- how could that be wrong?   
  
But when I saw her in front of my door, I knew it was.   
  
"Willow?" she asked, and I fell to my knees. She was so pale, her skin so   
destroyed by those months she spent in the ground. She walked over to me, me   
looking up, my eyes gone blank at the sight of her. She was so wrong- so very   
wrong.   
  
"Buffy," I said, and my voice was hardly more than a raspy whisper. "You came   
back."   
  
"Willow," she said again, still looking down. "It's cold in here. Why is it   
so cold?"   
  
I watched as she wrapped her arms around herself. I watched as she looked   
around the room, confused.   
  
"Why is everything different? Where are my things?"   
  
She walked past me, and I couldn't help but watch her go. She walked over to   
where her bed used to be- my desk was now there with my books strewn across   
it.   
  
I watched as she walked to the closet, pulling it open and finding nothing   
but my own clothes inside.   
  
"I'm so cold Willow," she said. "Can I borrow a sweater of yours?"   
  
"B-Buffy," I said, slowly getting back to my feet, clutching my hand to my   
chest. I felt like my heart was beating too fast. Everything was happening   
too fast. "Buffy, you don't remember anything?" I looked at her, looking for   
some sign of realization, but I found none.   
  
"No," she said, shaking her head as she slipped my blue sweater over her   
head. "I- I was," she said, looking down, trying to remember where she came   
from. "I was-" She stopped. "Willow, I'm so confused."   
  
God, I wanted to die right there. I walked over to her, pulling her close to   
me and trying not to retch as the scent of decay wafted into my nose. She was   
right- she was so cold, her skin icy to the touch. But I didn't care- Buffy   
was with me again, and the rest didn't matter. "Buffy, so much has happened.   
So much, Buffy." I pulled back, looking my best friend in the eyes. But hers,   
once so full of life and a glorious shade of green, were now dull, and dark.   
"You don't remember anything? About Glory?"   
  
"Glory," she said, looking down. "Sure. Glory. She was-" She stopped again.   
"I know this. I know it. Why can't I remember?" She looked up at me, her face   
almost panicked. "What's going on? Willow, I'm so scared."   
  
I took her hand, squeezing it tight and trying to ignore the shivers that her   
cold touch sent up my spine. She was always so warm, in so many ways. "Buffy,   
maybe you should sit down," I said. My mind was muddled with a confusion to   
challenge the one that Buffy was mired in. I didn't know how I was going to   
tell my best friend that she had died three months ago. I didn't know how I   
was going to tell her that I had brought her back from whatever peace she had   
found in death.   
  
"Buffy, so much happened," I began, my hands shaking as I led her to the bed.   
"A lot of it is going to be kind of a shock."   
  
She sat down, looking up at me for some explanation- some reason for why she   
couldn't remember where she had been, or what had happened. I wanted to ask   
her what she last remembered, but I could tell it was my turn for answers- my   
turn for explanations, especially since I seemed to be the only person with   
one to offer. "Glory took Dawn," I said, and by the look on her face, I knew   
I had to continue my story, and soon. But God- that was the easy part.   
  
"We went to fight her," I said, taking her hand and gripping it tightly. "You   
fought so well, Buffy. You really had Glory on the ropes." I smiled,   
remembering how proudly we all looked upon her as she delivered those blows   
to the hellgod. We didn't care then that the world could end at any minute-   
we all just looked to our heroine and watched her do what she did best- kick   
some evil ass.   
  
"But Dawn-" she said, and I could feel her hands shaking beneath mine. Or   
maybe it was my own shaking hers. Looking back, I can't really remember. All   
I know was that I could feel her fright- I could feel every bit of the   
apprehension she felt as I continued.   
  
"Dawn was," I started, and frowned. This was where it got difficult. This is   
where I wanted to pretend that none of it had ever happened. "She was cut," I   
said, my voice low as I looked down and stared at our intertwined fingers.   
"The blood-"   
  
"The portal," Buffy said, nodding. "I remember now. God," she said, looking   
over to the window and out at the night beyond. "It's coming back to me."   
  
"Buffy-" I said, feeling my heart beat faster. I wanted to break it to her   
easily- I didn't want her to remember. I didn't want her to feel again what   
it must have been like to die.   
  
"No," she said, shaking her head and letting go of my hand harshly. "The   
portal opened," she said, telling the story herself now. "The portal opened   
and I- I had to. I couldn't let my baby sister die. I couldn't."   
  
She paced around the room, so fast, so angry. I could almost see the scenes   
flashing in her mind as she recalled that night. "Buffy, please," I begged   
her, getting up to go to her.   
  
"Don't touch me," she said, slapping my hand away angrily. "I died, Willow. I   
gave up everything to save her. To save all of you."   
  
"I know," I said, and the tears that had consumed me for the last three   
months overflowed anew. "I just-"   
  
"You just what?" she said, and she turned to me, that familiar fire in her   
eyes. When she was angry, there was always that flame- that flicker of   
passion dancing there. I remembered- even knowing those words of anger were   
meant for me- I remember, I was glad. I was glad there was *something* there.   
"You just thought you'd bring me back? That everything would be for   
nothing?"   
  
"I just-" I stammered, trying to find the words to accurately capture my   
grief. "We all missed you so much, Buffy. We didn't think we could live   
without you. Any of us," I said, and the tears streaked down my cheeks.   
  
"But everything I did- everything I died for," she said, looking at me   
harshly. "You took that all back, Willow."   
  
"No, I didn't!" I said, trying so hard to defend myself when even I knew,   
always knew, that what I did was wrong. "You still saved the world, Buffy.   
You still saved all of us. Again."   
  
She looked at me, and I could see the anger die away for a moment. For a   
moment, we were just two best friends, staring at each other. We were just   
two best friends, realizing how much we had missed each other, and how glad   
we were to be together again. She shook her head, looking down as if trying   
to figure something out. "I can't cry," she said, looking up at me.   
  
"Of course you can," I said, reaching out to her, but she shied away from my   
touch again. "Buffy, you don't always need to be so strong."   
  
"No," she said, shaking her head again. "You don't understand. I *can't* cry.   
I want to," she said, looking up at me. "This body. This..this *corpse*."   
  
"Oh God," I remember saying, and I vaguely remember my hand reaching up to   
cover my mouth and the sob that came next. "Buffy, I'm so sorry."   
  
She paced the room again, and I sank back down onto the bed, watching her go.   
I didn't know what to say, or how to say it. I didn't know what to do, or how   
to make it right. "I'm so sorry," I said again. Nothing else I would say   
would be as truthful as those three words.   
  
"I don't want to go through this again," she said, looking at me. I looked   
into those eyes of hers again, and I felt as if a hand had clutched my heart.   
Such pain- even the grief that filled all of our eyes after her death didn't   
compare to what I saw there.   
  
"I can't," she said, falling to her knees in front of me, covering her head   
with her hands. "Willow, I can't live this life again. I can't go out there   
every night knowing that any night, I can die again. I did the best I could,   
and I died the best way I could. I can't-"   
  
"I know," I said, wiping the tears away from my face. "But Dawn-" I said,   
hating myself for playing the one card that could keep her here, but unable   
to help myself. I needed her. Having her here again- I didn't think I could   
ever let her go.   
  
"Dawn," she said, looking up at the ceiling. She was silent for so long, but   
her face spoke volumes. In that silence, I chided myself for mentioning the   
girl. I chided myself for everything I had done that night, for I knew the   
answer that would come would be the same that would have had I not mentioned   
her sister.   
  
"She'd only have to go through this again," Buffy finally said. "I made my   
peace with her. I told her how much I loved her. If I come back now-" She   
shook her head. "I can't do that to her. I can't do that to any of you."   
  
She looked up at me, taking my hand again and I was so eager for the contact.   
Her skin seemed almost warmer, but I knew it was only in my imagination. "You   
need to undo this, Willow. I can't- I'm not strong enough." She looked at me,   
her eyes pleading. "Please."   
  
I nodded. At least I think I did, because everything from that moment on   
seems so muddy in my memory.   
  
I vaguely remember wiping more tears away. I vaguely remember telling her I   
love her. I vaguely remember kissing her on the forehead. And I vaguely   
remember her thanking me. For what, I'll never know. Maybe it was for caring   
for her so much that I wanted her back so badly. Maybe it was for always   
being her best friend. Maybe it was for doing what I did next, and doing it   
without another moment's argument.   
  
Because I clearly remember looking down at the picture of her, her hair   
upswept and caught by a barrette, her smile so beautiful and so serene, and   
her eyes - so full of light, so full of life.   
  
And I clearly remember closing my eyes, and letting my fingers rip the   
picture in two.   
  
And I remember, as clear as anything has ever been, opening my eyes, and   
seeing nothing before me.   
  
The End   



End file.
